


Oh Christmas Tree

by DarkmoonSigel



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Fluff and Humor, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Wing Grooming, Wing Kink, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:54:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22018993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkmoonSigel/pseuds/DarkmoonSigel
Summary: Some Christmas nonsense with the idiots in love
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 86





	Oh Christmas Tree

**Author's Note:**

> I know it’s not Christmas anymore, but better late than never.

“What are you doing up there?“

“Go away!” Aziraphale snapped, doing his best to ignore the demon. Crowley wasn’t about to make the angel’s life easy as he grinned up at Aziraphale. The angel was currently perched in a very tall, overly decorated Christmas tree, and was less than a foot tall in height. He even had his wings out, and a dimmed halo on. 

“No, seriously. Why are you a tree topper? You should be half in the bag right now, and eating more than your fair share of tiny food. If you think I’m leaving here without an answer, you’re out of your mind, more so than usual by the looks of it.” Crowley smirked at how flustered the angel was getting. 

“You look ridiculous talking to a Christmas tree.” Aziraphale hissed, still trying to maintain his cover.

“I look ridiculous? That’s rich to hear coming from someone dressed up in a doily. You’re even holding a funny little harp.” Crowley said with a wide grin, snapping his fingers to ensure that this conversation was private. “If you won’t tell me what you’re doing up there, can you answer my other question? Go on. No one’s looking or listening.”

“I guess it depends what your question is.” Aziraphale sighed. He already knew that Crowley was never going to let him live this down. The angel certainly didn’t want to give Crowley more fodder he could keep bringing up centuries later on.

“Are you wearing anything under those silly lace robes of yours?” Crowley. It made Aziraphale want to chuck a glittered pine cone at the demon’s head. 

“Cheek.” Aziraphale said with a Look. “Ask a better question.”

“Can I find out?”

“No. Now go away.”

“I’m not leaving until you answer at least one of my questions.” Which was exactly how Crowley got flashed by a tiny irate angel. 

It was a very good thing that Crowley had given them their own private little bubble. The demon was laughing so hard that Aziraphale thought he might discorporate. 

“Are you done?” Aziraphale sniffed, trying to pat down the lace back down into place. He was only mildly successful at it. He didn’t get an answer, the angel met with a sudden quiet, Crowley missing from sight.

“Serves you right.” Aziraphale grumped.

“How ssssssso?” Crowley hissed from somewhere behind the angel. 

“Oh good Lord.” Aziraphale told the snake wearing a little Santa hat, the angel turning to find the demon looming over him. It didn’t have a strap so the demon much have miracled it to stay put. “What in the dickens are you doing up here?”

“Blending in.” 

“Crowley, no one decorates Christmas trees with snakes, no matter how festively they are dressed. Someone is going to notice demonic snake tinsel!” Aziraphale said, looking ready to pitch a fit about it. “I just want this assignment to be done and dusted! This horrid lace itches!”

“Calm down, angel. No one will notice me. I’ll even help.” Crowley said, resuming human shape again, but kept it to the angel’s current size and condition. “Bloody hell, it does itch, doesn’t it.”

“Told you.” Aziraphale said, snapping everything black on the demon into a more appropriate ethereal color scheme. “Wrong color, dear.”

“Fine. Just this once.” Crowley sighed at his snowy wings. “What’s wrong now?”

Aziraphale was staring at the demon with a very complicated expression on his face. “Nothing. You just look...”

“Angelic?” Crowley said with a still very permanent demonic serpentine glare. “Don’t get any ideas. I’m not turning back into an angel. My VIP membership has been permanently revoked by the management, remember?”

“All I was going to say was ‘different’.” Aziraphale said quietly, his eyes glued back on the party going on all around them. He moved so that they stood back to back, though not touching. “I haven’t seen you in anything other than black, grey, or red for 6,000 years. Forgive me for staring.”

“That’s not true. I wore that green dress to court.” Crowley shot back weakly, apologizing without really doing so. He felt miserable about the last six seconds. 

“You can’t keep making fun of my clothing if you consider the 6th century to be recent.” Aziraphale gently tutted, leaning back against the demon so that their wings pressed up against each other. The contact made Crowley release the stiff line of tension he had been accumulating in his shoulders there. “Although you did look quite lovely that evening. Your hair was a truly splendid thing to behold.”

“It’s a right hassle that long, but I guess it was all worth it in the long run if it made that much of impression on you even until this day.” A mind made for questions. “How come you’ve never worn your own hair long?”

“I’m sure I have at some point or another. In the beginning, we really didn’t see each other all that much.”

“Does any time period particularly spring to mind when you did then?”

“...No.” Aziraphale begrudgingly admitted. 

“Have a go at it. Angels are supposed to have long hair.” Crowley nudged.

“You know that’s artistic interpretation poppycock.”

“That may be, but how many angelic tree toppers with short hair like yours sprints to mind?” Crowley pointed out, feeling the angel beginning to capsize. 

“Oh, fine. I’m not keeping it any longer than I have to.” Aziraphale said, snapping his fingers. He even made it waist length so Crowley couldn’t find any fault in it. 

Aziraphale had been around on Earth for the better part of 6,000 years. The angel knew what he preferred, but he had done thorough experimenting beforehand to find out what he exactly liked before settling on something. Long hair had been attempted at some time or another, and each and every time, it was cropped back close to the head. Unfortunately, the angel had the bad tendency of forgetting the reason for doing do. 

Instantly long curly hair was a prompt reminder like it was every time, Aziraphale’s coif having a mind of its own now as it rioted ringlets in all directions. It was also quite heavy on the head.

“Oh drat!” Aziraphale grumbled, blowing some snowy curls out of his face to have it flop back right into place. “You can see why I’ve always kept it...Crowley dear, what are you staring at?”

Crowley didn’t know what kind expression had moved in on his face, but it made Aziraphale put on his concerned while miffed yet also slightly scared look. To be fair, Crowley didn’t know where to begin, but he had to start somewhere soon before Aziraphale changed it all back.

“What are you doing?” Aziraphale asked, beginning to actually feel worried that he might have broken Crowley. The demon was still staring at him, but now his hands were buried in the fluffy depths of the angel’s hair.

“It’s so soft. I would have definitely remembered something like this.” Crowley said barely above a whisper. “There’s so much of it! You even got proper ringlets!”

“You’re being ridiculous.” Aziraphale huffed, all concern brushed aside. 

“You’re a little late to be playing ‘pot, kettle’ with me, angel.” Crowley said, mesmerized by the wealth of curls. 

“Oh? Pray tell, why?”

“When I woke from my little nap, my hair was very dust free. Glossy even, almost like someone had been coming on the regular  
to take care of it. I don’t know about you, but I really can’t picture Hastur taking the time to do that for me.” Crowley gloated a bit more than he should have over about revealing that deduction. They hadn’t properly talked about it yet, either party happy to wrap it up on a few hundred years of breathing room.

The suddenness of it was abrupt enough to make Azirpahale tear up as he turned an interesting shade of scarlet, much to the demon’s own personal horror. 

What they had between them was a delicate dance, one of fine detail and even finer balance. They had been learning and teaching each other the steps of it for millennia. 

It was the Fool’s footwork on the knife’s edge. They moved like the ebb and flow of the tide upon it. Crowley would offer because he could. Aziraphale would take because that was about all he could do. It might seem selfish, but a gift not well received, or even unwanted can be just as soul crushing as selfishness. They did what they could for each other. They treasured each other in their own unique way. 

That meant there were soft blankets on an even softer bed for Crowley at the bookshop, and a hidden little library at the demon’s flat for Aziraphale. Crowley could happily live the rest of his existence without ever seeing ‘Madame Butterfly’ again, but he was also well aware that Aziraphale felt the same away about his beloved Bond films. 

There were centuries of little gifts, earthly tokens of affection. Custom silver snuffboxes, gloves made from buttery soft leather, and of course, books were customary for the angel. Aziraphale would use his true nature as a Principality to inspire artisans to create entire collections of jewelry for the demon. Crowley’s favorite thus far was a piece made by Tiffany himself. 

It was an intricate accessory of a bracelet connecting to an armband that traveled up the shoulder to coil about the neck. The Art Deco snake was made entirely from black fire opals set in gold, its sleek head rested nestled in the hollow of one’s collarbones. Held in place by golden fangs, a perfect ruby had been carved into the shape of an apple, accented with emerald leaves attached to a stem made of amber. 

The end result looked like someone had paid an obscene amount of money to capture entire miniature nebulas mixed with the Original Sin to lay them at Crowley’s feet. 

Crowley preferred to wear it completely naked. Aziraphale liked that as well. 

It’s what kept them safe. It’s what let them be together in a sense, but now Crowley has jumped too far ahead for Aziraphale, dancing too fast for his partner, an angel. 

Angels weren’t supposed to be able to dance. It’s a hallmark trait of being an angel. 

Aziraphale had always done his best to do right by Crowley while keeping Heaven at bay. The demon knew this. Knew how hard it was for his angel who had somehow defied all odds by not Falling. 

Crowley wanted so much more though. He knew Aziraphale did too, that he might be willing to dare fate and function for so much more, but the angel had to be allowed to do so at his own pace. 

Crowley knew Aziraphale, knew that the angel is about to leave him out of fear and embarrassment. Aziraphale was an angel who feared Heaven, who feared being in love. He would decide to put time and distance between himself and Crowley, and it would take Someone knows how many damn centuries for the angel to pick up the pace again with Crowley. Something needed to be done and fast, so Crowley did the first thing that came to mind. 

He braided their hair together. After millennia of practice, Crowley was very good at it.

“What are you doing?! Stop that!” Aziraphale startled. 

“No, this might be the only chance I get to do this.” Crowley said, noticing that the angel wasn’t doing a whole lot to stop him. 

“You’re rather good at that.” Aziraphale said, the pair of them soon connected to one another by an intricate network of red and white braids. “This is terribly impractical. No one is going to believe we’re mere ornaments now. Why have you gone and done such a ridiculous thing?”

“Wanted to see how it would look.” Crowley said as he leaned back, making the angel fall forward. Aziraphale retaliated by regaining his balance to return the move. Crowley found himself being flung toward.

“I’m a tree to your twig, my dear.” Aziraphale enough of a bastard to use the differences in their weight to his advantage. He did catch up Crowley in his arms so the demon was quite alright about it. The power play did make them topple head over heels out of the tree though.

It was a very good thing that they had already put up their own private bubble. It saved them a lot of hassle, and maintained some of their dignity, considering the fall sounded much much like this-

“Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch!”

*snap*

“Oi! My hair!“

“Quit flapping your wings, you idiot!”

“Look out for that branch! You call this flying!”

“No, I call it ‘tentatively falling’!”

“Well, at least the twig landed on the tree.” Crowley grinned down at the angel after they had come to a stop. 

“So clever you’ll cut yourself one day.” Aziraphale muttered, “Be a love, and get off of me. My pinfeathers are bent all wrong beneath me.”

“C’mon. Let’s have a look.” Crowley said as he rolled off and up, offering a hand to help the angel up. They decided to sit beneath the tree, well out of view as they made themselves comfortable on the velvet base. “Holy Hell, when’s the last time you groomed your wings?”

“I can’t recall. When was the last time we had Turkish food from that place that we both liked?” Aziraphale asked after thinking it over for a bit, more distracted by Crowley’s roaming fingers than actually bothering to remember. 

“The one in Turkey?”

“Yes, that’s the one.”

“Aziraphale, that was over 500 years ago.”

“Oh drat, I doubt that place will still be around. Dreadful shame. They had that loveliest goat and date fish.”

“That’s not the point! The state of these wings is abysmal.” 

“I’ve been busy is all.” Aziraphale said, his pout heard even from behind. 

“Who were you supposed to be on the lookout for anyway?” Crowley asked, suddenly remembering that Aziraphale was here for a reason, and supposed to be on watch out. 

“Oh, some dreary politician.” Aziraphale said vaguely.

“The one who’s been in the news of late?” Crowley guessed, the demon quite used to the angel’s brand of vague. 

“Yes, that one.” Aziraphale said, confirming Crowley’s suspicions.

“Wasting your time on that one.” Crowley said in a definite tone that made the angel glance over his shoulder at him. 

“Oh? What makes you so sure of that?” 

“Hell already came to claim him. The daft bastard tried to wiggle out of his deal so Beelzebub decided he was worth more dead than alive.”

“You mean I could have been enjoying the party this entire time?” Aziraphale sighed, somewhat out of relief, disappointment, and the waves of relaxation that Crowley was creating as he fixed and furrowed out many a bent or broken feathers. 

“Afraid so.” Crowley said as he played ‘one for you, one for me’ with Aziraphale’s feathers, not that the angel ever needed to find that out. “But at least you’ll walk away from this with well groomed wings for once.”

“Cheek.” Aziraphale said with more fondness than anything. “May I tempt you into sharing a nightcap with me for a ride back to the shop then?”

“I think that can be arranged.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Your kudos get drunk on spikes eggnog. Your comments try to bring the chicken dance back to social functions.


End file.
